Secret of the Wolf(48)

"However," Deoul went on, "you will not be placed in silver." At the slight smile of relief she couldn't contain, he raised his brows. "Not all of us were convinced of the wisdom of forgoing that punishment."

She straightened her lips, trying to look suitably chastised. She still had a favor to ask, so now was not the time to antagonize anyone. "I thank the council for their mercy."

"Hmm." Deoul looked at his co-members. "Does anyone have anything to add?" When the other councilors remained silent, Deoul said to Tori, "You may go."

She didn't budge.

He raised his eyebrows. "You have something more?"

"Yes, please."

He waved a hand. "Proceed."

Tori drew a bracing breath. "I beg the council's indulgence … I ask for permission to turn Dante MacMillan."

Stunned silence filled the room before councilors began talking, some louder than others. She glanced at Tobias and saw he was sitting still, his gaze on hers, waiting for the furor to die down.

Deoul got to his feet and braced his palms against the table. "You would request this favor after all you've allowed to happen?"

"I would." She had to talk over the hubbub of voices. "I don't ask it for me. I don't ask it for me," she repeated when they'd quieted again. "I ask this "e gfavor for Detective MacMillan."

"How does Dante feel about it?" Tobias leaned forward in his chair, eyes as placid as his voice had been.

"It was his idea."

That shut them up.

"Really?" Caladh also leaned forward, his dark eyes filled with curiosity. "Why does he want to become a werewolf?"

In that moment Tori decided to leave any reference to herself out of it. If they thought he wanted to be like her because of her, they might well use that to punish her. "So he can be with his sister. She's the only family he has, and he doesn't want to grow old and eventually die, leaving her alone."

"As a werewolf, she has a new family now, yes?" This from Vida. "She has us. Her pack."

"With all due respect, madam councilwoman, it's not the same thing." Tori knew that all too well. "She's his flesh and blood."

"If I may," Tobias said and stood. "Detective MacMillan would be an excellent asset to the council and to the preternatural community at large. We should consider this."

"Agreed." Caladh leaned back in his chair.

The other councilors murmured their agreement.

Deoul looked at Tori. "Go home. We will advise you of our decision within the next forty-eight hours."

Tori knew, whatever they decided, she'd stand by her man, as corny as that sounded. She'd see to it that Dante wasn't alone.

Epilogue

Rain fell in heavy sheets, bringing much needed water to the drought-stricken Sonoran Desert. Two wolves ran side by side through the downpour and then stopped beneath a mesquite tree. Muscles and sinew rippled beneath skin and fur. Bones shifted and realigned, reforming themselves. Wet fur receded, leaving behind only tanned skin as the wolves became human.

Became man and woman.

Tori took several shuddering breaths and fought her way back from the mind of the wolf. Her body ached, and as the last of the wolf retreated inside, it gave her one final slash of pain. She took another deep breath and looked at the man next to her. "Well?" she asked, her voice raspy. "Was it what you expected?"

Dante's eyes still held the amber glow of the wolf. "So much more. My God." He cupped her chin in his hand and slanted his mouth over hers. She leaned into the kiss, going down onto her knees to wrap her arms around his neck. She raked her fingers through his wet hair, dragging her nails lightly across his scalp. He drew back and stared down at her. "The sense of freedom, of belonging … "

"Belonging to … " she prompted.

"Everything." He planted another kiss on her lips, this one brief and hard, a promise of things to come. "Let's get dressed and get home," he said, reaching behind him for the plastic bag that held their clothing. He handed over her jeans, T-shirt, and underwear and they dressed, awkwardly bent over beneath the branches of the tree. Then a barefooted dash through the downpour brought them to his heavy-duty pickup truck.

As he drove from the trailhead back toward the main road, he reached over and took her hand, strong, warm fingers wrapped around hers. "So are you ever gonna tell me what made the council change their minds?"

Initially, the council had denied the request. Then they'd backed down and told her she could turn him, but only if she promised to have nothing further to do with Dante. It would have devastated her, but she would have done it. She would have given him up if it meant he could have a long life with his sister.

In the end, Tobia of ths had convinced the others that requiring that of her punished Dante as much as it hurt her. And so they'd done away with any sort of requirement attached to the turning.

"I already told you. You did. Your dedication to your job, your pursuit of the truth, your respect of preternaturals." She squeezed his hand. "All I did was ask. They agreed because it was you."

"Hmm." He looked like he didn't believe her, but that was because he didn't think he was all that special. Thankfully, the council had disagreed.

As did Tori. She thought Dante was pretty damn special. And now she had the rest of immortality to spend with him.

He was her love. He was her family. She'd been so hopeful with her brother and her cousin, and had her heart crushed by their cruel, immoral acts. Now she had a husband and a sister by marriage and, if fate was kind, in the future they'd add to the MacMillan clan.

She couldn't wait to see what the future held.

Sparks fly when a fae warrior and a demon bad boy cross paths.

When they learn they're working for opposing sides, can the fire between them survive?

Please turn this page for a preview of

Heart of the Demon.

Prologue

Zombies got a bad rap these days. At least that's what the drunk one kept telling Finn Evnissyen as he sat at the bar nursing his beer.

"I mean, come on. Do I look like I'm rotting?" The guy held out one arm and turned it so Finn could see the underside. The action sent a waft of ammonia covered up by too much cologne.

That small hint of ammonia told Finn that this guy had become a zombie within hours of death instead of days. Yeah, if he'd been dead longer than that he wouldn't be so pretty and would be much more odiferous.

The zombie flexed his arm again. "Nope," he muttered, answering his own question. "Skin's as clear as a baby's bottom."

Finn didn't give a rat's ass about the zombie's skin or baby bottoms. "Uh-huh," he grunted. He swiveled around on his stool to look out over the bar. It was just after three in the afternoon, and the bar already had a healthy clientele made up of various preternaturals and humans. Finn brought his glass to his lips and sipped while he checked out the other drinkers.

A couple of blue-collar looking guys, probably human, sat at a back booth with pretzels and beers and their eyes glued to the large TV screen hanging on one wall. It looked like a pre-season game of the Arizona Cardinals and Green Bay Packers. Finn watched for a few minutes, trying to ignore the zombie still yammering in his ear.

There was a lone drinker at the end of the bar that caught Finn's eye. He leaned around zombie guy for a better look, and the loner hunched over his drink, obviously not wanting Finn to see him. Finn understood wanting to be alone with his drink, but he did want to know what kind of pret he was sharing a bar with. Doing his job as well as he did meant he'd made a few enemies. Hell, more than a few. So he wanted to make sure the guy trying to hide behind his drink wasn't a demon with a grudge.

Finn took a few sniffs of air and grimaced at the sickly-sweet smell emanating from the man next to him, a man who was still going on about zombies getting such negative press.

"Really, man." The zombie lifted his drink. "Just because we happen to like brains-"

"aboutMack!" Finn held up his hand to signal the bartender. Enough was enough. He slammed his glass onto the bar and scowled. He'd come here for a drink or three, not to strike up conversation with some random smelly dude. Since this guy wouldn't shut up, it was time to go. He slapped a few bills down on the bar and pushed off his stool.

"You gotta go?" The whiny zombie looked like he was about to cry. "We was just gettin' started."

"Yeah, well, somebody's disturbing my quiet." Finn shot the guy a look and headed toward the front of the bar. He glanced behind him for another look at the man hiding behind his drink and saw he had leaned back and was watching Finn, a sneer curling his upper lip. Bloodshot eyes and a slight mottling of the left side of his face-not that noticeable unless you were looking for it-told Finn he was a hobgoblin. So … not a threat. Just surly.

As Finn pushed open the door, he slipped his sunglasses over his eyes. The humid monsoon air of a late Scottsdale afternoon slapped him in the face. God, it was so hot it felt like he'd just stepped into an oven. Highway to Hell began playing on his phone. He dragged it out of his pocket and answered with a terse, "What's up, Dad?"

"I need to see you. Now." Lucifer Demonicus got, as always, right to the point. "My office."

"I'm a little busy right now." He wasn't, but dear old dad didn't need to know that.